


Falling

by Drakontion



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Shepard - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-19
Updated: 2011-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-17 05:38:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/173473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drakontion/pseuds/Drakontion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>He'd never really considered failing. Always thought he'd ride through it all in an avalanche of bullets, laying waste to all around him. Glorious. Untouchable. Commander Shepard the conquering hero. Saviour of the galaxy, again.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Falling

**Author's Note:**

> He'd never really considered failing. Always thought he'd ride through it all in an avalanche of bullets, laying waste to all around him. Glorious. Untouchable. Commander Shepard the conquering hero. Saviour of the galaxy, again.

He'd never really considered failing. Always thought he'd ride through it all in an avalanche of bullets, laying waste to all around him. Glorious. Untouchable. Commander Shepard the conquering hero. Saviour of the galaxy, again.

The first time he fell he felt the coldness of space and the gentle, insistent tugging of the planet below him. Felt the saliva boil inside his mouth and the swelling of his eyeballs from the vacuum. The cold freezing him, crisping his skin. The panic as his lungs ran out of air and he flailed wildly, hoping for something, anything to rescue him. The brief burn of the start of reentry. The whirl of the stars as they spun around him in their demented, deathly dance.

Alchera called him to her like a persistent, manic lover and he fell forever into the darkness of her embrace.

When he woke up he swore he wouldn't fall again. And yet here he was. Falling. He'd done his best, god knows. Slaughtered his way through the Collectors like it was old times, the sick satisfaction as sprays of their blood spurted and splashed across the organic floors of the base they were on. He didn't try to hold it back, just went on doing what he did best: killing.

And dammit he was so _good_ at it! He'd cut a swathe from one end of the galaxy to the other, twice. Killed humans, animals, aliens, geth. Barely been injured. He'd died, yes, but not in battle. Not by bullet. Through no fault of his own. He'd crossed the dark gates and, having returned, was the dealer of death to anyone who crossed his path. He revelled in the bloodshed, the pain, the misery. When some small part of him tried to tell him this was wrong, he'd ruthlessly buried it. "I have to," he'd say. "I have no choice."

But there was always a choice.

He just never thought it would end like this. Never thought he'd leave them behind again. Never thought he'd fall again. He watched as his ship grew smaller and smaller above him, watched as Joker's pale face, mouth open and contorted, arm reaching, disappeared.

An inner voice whispered to him that it served him right. That it was his just desserts for all the horrible things he'd done. Try as he might to block it, it was insidious. He'd done terrible things in the name of saving the galaxy. He was supposed to be saving humanity. Somehow he'd lost his own in the midst of all the death he dealt.

He closed his eyes. At least this time it wasn't cold.


End file.
